It will all end one day
Perhaps on a crimson morn
Or on an evening grey.
The object of ultimate affection
Will breathe and beat
And will wane away
Into the bottomless abyss.
As episodes of impersonal history
As spokes in the wheel of time
Pages will turn and I will be lost
As a pause before some unwritten line.
It will all end one day
With me, without me
Spring,summer,autumn,winter
The merry-go-round will continue.
The time has come
As all senses ebb
The Light fades, the sound muffles
And in a flash of moment’s discomfort
The Iness in me wades away.
Beyond the sentinel of existence…
Perhaps on a crimson morn
Or on an evening grey.
The object of ultimate affection
Will breathe and beat
And will wane away
Into the bottomless abyss.
As episodes of impersonal history
As spokes in the wheel of time
Pages will turn and I will be lost
As a pause before some unwritten line.
It will all end one day
With me, without me
Spring,summer,autumn,winter
The merry-go-round will continue.
The time has come
As all senses ebb
The Light fades, the sound muffles
And in a flash of moment’s discomfort
The Iness in me wades away.
Beyond the sentinel of existence…
No comments:
Post a Comment